


The Carter Chronicles

by SailorSol



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Harry, Alternate Canon, Apologies to the Wranglers, BAMF Peggy Carter, Canon Rewrite, Competent Harry, Crack, Gen, Grownups Can Be Idiots, Harry Gives Him One, Harry and Tony are BFFs, Muggles are Smarter Than You Think, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is in the running for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, all the snark, book rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of Agent-Auror Harry Potter, as raised by Peggy Carter (with help from Tony Stark, no really, he totally helps!)</p><p>Or, the one where Peggy Carter adopted a six year old Harry Potter and raises him to be smart and capable and a good influence on Tony Stark and Harry handles his life as the Boy-Who-Lived a lot better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starpaint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starpaint/gifts).



> Well, actually, this one is my fault. Sort of. Starpaint came up with the idea of Harry being adopted by someone at MI-5, I went on to suggest Peggy, and it all snowballed from there. <3, dearest.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Right now, this is only the first book. More may come.

Harry’s been home for less than three days when he and Aunt Peggy see the news that Uncle Howard and Aunt Maria have died in a car crash. Aunt Peggy wastes no time, and they’re walking through the back entrance of the Stark mansion in less than two hours.

They find Tony sprawled across a couch, the room reeking of liquor. Mr. Stane is nowhere to be found, and Harry feels oddly relieved by that fact. Aunt Peggy is just wrinkling her nose at Tony.

“Up,” she orders him, and Tony is halfway to his feet on sheer muscle memory before he’s tipping sideways. Harry, with newly-honed seeker reflexes, is at Tony’s side and mostly manages to keep him upright.

His eyes are red-rimmed, and this close, Harry can smell the whiskey as if Tony had spilled half the bottle on himself. Knowing Tony, he may have. But mostly, Tony just looks like his entire world has ended, and Harry does the only thing he knows how to do in a situation like this; he wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and hugs him, because Tony might not have always got along with his parents, but Harry knows what it’s like to lose your parents and he remembers when Aunt Peggy told him the truth about how his parents had died and he’d cried for days.

Aunt Peggy’s look has softened, and she comes over and joins the hug, and Harry can feel Tony clinging to both of them as his shoulders start shaking again, though he’s not really crying. “Let’s get you cleaned up and some real food into you,” Aunt Peggy says, but she hasn’t let go yet, and Tony just nods. Harry’s glad he came home for the holidays so he could be here to help Tony too.

* * *

After the funeral, Tony and Rhodey come back to Aunt Peggy’s to avoid the press that’s been camped around his house. Tony’s been quiet since Christmas day; tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and Harry goes back to school the week after that, and he really wants Tony to laugh and smile again before he’s gone until the summer.

Aunt Peggy also keeps her liquor cabinet locked, and while Tony could probably pick it, that requires more effort than he’s been putting into anything in the last week. But at least that means Harry and Rhodey don’t have to deal with a drunk and morose Tony.

He’d left his broom at school, which is probably for the best, because there’s not really anywhere to fly it (he’ll have to talk to Aunt Peggy about that for the summer, so he doesn’t fall out of practice for Quidditch). Tony would probably try to take his Nimbus apart, while Rhodey would want to try and fly it, and Harry’s already trying to plan ways for both of them to come to a Quidditch match. But for now, he pulls out the deck of Exploding Snap cards Seamus sent him for Christmas, and starts shuffling.

“Cards? Really? I’m in mourning, and you want to play cards?” Tony asks.

Harry rolls his eyes and ignores the sharp tone Tony is using; Tony’d use that tone even if he wasn’t mourning. “Exploding snap.” That certainly caught Tony’s attention, and Rhodey was eyeing the deck warily now. “Just like regular snap, except sometimes the cards explode.”

“Gimme,” Tony says, holding his hand out for the deck. Harry rolls his eyes again, because Tony’s never known about manners (one of the many bad traits he picked up from Uncle Howard), and sometimes it just isn’t worth it to argue the point. Tony’s examining the cards closely, and Harry half hopes they’ll explode in his hands and singe off his eyebrows just to teach him a lesson.

“Why don’t we play a round so you can see them in action?” Harry suggests, because Rhodey is rolling his eyes too, and if they let him, Tony will spend all day trying to figure out how the cards work. But it’s enough of a distraction that Tony spends more time waiting for the cards to explode than he does playing the actual game, so by the time Aunt Peggy comes in after the third explosion, Harry and Rhodey are in fierce competition.

Aunt Peggy doesn’t say anything, just smiles that tight-lipped smile of hers and leaves a tray of sandwiches and chocolate milk.

* * *

Going back to school after break is harder than leaving for the first time in September. Then, he was at least excited about meeting new people and learning new things. Now, he’s worried about Tony. But it’s nice to see his friends again, even if the compartment is crowded with all eight of them crammed in together.

“I went to the library over the holidays,” Hermione says, once they’re all settled in and they’ve got a pile of snacks splayed out from the food cart. Everyone snickers, but it’s good-natured and Hermione only pretends to sulk. “Muggles have lots of stories about the philosopher’s stone.”

“Can’t this wait til we’re back at school?” Ron complains. He’d spent the holidays with Neville, since his parents had decided to go off to Romania at the last minute. “Feels too much like homework.”

“And Harry hasn’t told us what he did on break yet,” Parvati says.

Harry would rather talk about the philosopher’s stone, but everyone (including Hermione) are now looking at him with interest, so he sighs and resigns himself to telling them. “I spent most of the time with my friend Tony. His parents died in a car crash on Christmas Eve. Aunt Peggy’s known Tony’s dad since way back during the second World War.”

“Oh Harry, that’s terrible!” Lavender says, throwing her arms around his neck. “It must be horrible losing your mum and dad like that.” Hermione snorts and Seamus chokes on a jelly bean as Lavender’s eyes go wide. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, Harry, I’m so sorry!”

“S’okay, Lavender,” Harry says, now comforting her. “I never really had a chance to get to know my mum and dad, but I’d hate for something to happen to Aunt Peggy. The Ministry’d probably try and send me back to the Dursleys,” he adds, shuddering at the thought. “Not that Tony would let that happen.” Even if living with Tony would be a downright disaster. “Hey, why don’t we play a round of Exploding snap?” Harry asks, already pulling out the deck. Hermione scowls at the distraction, but the others are all agreeing, and Harry grins to himself at the deftly handled change of subject. He’d have to remember to thank Seamus again later.

* * *

“Hagrid, where did you get the dragon egg from?” Hermione asks in a voice that reminds Harry of Aunt Peggy.

“Won ‘im in a card game, I did,” Hagrid says, swelling with pride. Hermione still looks disapproving, and Ron is wide-eyed with awe, which meant Harry had to be the reasonable one here.

“Where would you keep a fully grown dragon, Hagrid?” Harry asks. “There’s not really anywhere on Hogwarts grounds for one, and they need a lot of space for flying, don’t they?”

Hagrid deflates and drops into a chair, which despite being built for him, still groans slightly. “Hadn’t thought o’ that,” he says. “I’ll figure summat out, I’m sure.”

Hermione at least has picked up on what Harry’s trying to do. “Don’t you think it would be happier with other dragons?”

Ron perks up. “My brother Charlie works at a dragon preserve in Romania, he’s always writing about getting new eggs in from illegal smuggling groups.”

Hagrid’s looking torn, which Harry thinks is probably a good thing. “You could write to Charlie,” he suggests to Hagrid. “Make sure there’s plenty of space, and I bet he’d let you come visit.”

Ron nods his agreement. “Charlie always said how much he liked talking to you about creatures.”

And that was just the right thing to say, because Hagrid’s shoulders slump in defeat and he nods. “Yeah, s’pose you lot are right. Best be sending a letter off to Charlie before the egg’s due to hatch.”

Harry feels a rush of relief, and he offers Hagrid a hug before the three of them head back to the castle for dinner.

* * *

“McGonagall won’t even listen to me,” Harry whispers. He, Ron, and Hermione are on shift, watching the third floor corridor. Evidence is pointing towards Snape as the one trying to get to the stone, but Harry won’t rule anyone else out without definitive evidence, and Quirrel’s just as suspicious in his own way.

“So what do we do now?” Hermione asks.

“I sent a letter to Aunt Peggy, and another one to Professor Dumbledore telling him what we’ve figured out,” Harry says. “I’m not sure he got it though; McGonagall said he was due in London tonight.”

“Which means Snape—or whoever it is—will try tonight,” Hermione replies.

Ron groans softly. “And we have no idea what we’re up against, other than Fluffy.”

“Fluffy won’t be much of a problem,” Hermione says.

“A great bloody three-headed dog, and you think it won’t be a problem? Are you crazy?” Ron demands. Harry can’t quite stop himself from snickering as Hermione shushes them both.

“Come on, Ron, surely you’ve read some Greek mythology,” Harry says. “Orpheus puts the Cerberus to sleep with his music?”

“Okay, fine, so you think you’ve got a way around the dog. Great. But Hagrid said other professors have helped to guard the stone,” Ron says.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to stop whoever it is before they get past Fluffy. I’ve been working on a stunning spell, but I’m not very good at it yet,” she admits. “But it might be enough.”

“And we both know the leg-locker curse,” Harry points out to Ron. Harry’s about to continue when his scar flares with pain, and he has to muffle a cry in Hermione’s shoulder. Someone in a cloak walks past them and goes through the door to Fluffy’s chamber, and it takes Harry too many seconds to blink his vision clear as Hermione and Ron drag him to his feet.

By the time they make it through the door, the room is empty except for Fluffy.

* * *

He wakes in the Hospital Wing to the sound of Aunt Peggy lecturing someone, rather loudly. Aunt Peggy never yells, but her lectures make you feel like you’ve been yelled at anyway. Mr. Morita told Harry she learned how to do that while she was still in the Army and spent time at their basic training camps. He pities whoever’s on the receiving end (it’s usually Tony more than Harry, but Harry’s had his fair share of Aunt Peggy Lectures, thanks).

“Don’t see if I don’t send him back in the fall, Albus, I will not have you putting him in unnecessary danger just so you can test him,” she says, and it takes Harry a minute to realize that _Albus_ is _Professor Dumbledore_ , and Aunt Peggy is chewing out his headmaster like some young army recruit. “Now if you will excuse us, I do believe Harry is awake and I would like some time with him.”

She doesn’t wait for Dumbledore to say anything before she’s pulling a chair close to Harry’s bed and squeezing his hand tightly in hers. She looks somewhere between relieved and annoyed at him, but he’s secretly relieved too that he survived to have Aunt Peggy give him a lecture too.

“I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did,” Harry says before she can start on her lecture.

Aunt Peggy sighs and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “You were foolish and took an unnecessary risk,” she says, but that’s not her Lecture Voice. “But I understand why you felt it necessary. You did all the right things, speaking with Professor McGonagall and sending a letter to Professor Dumbledore.”

“But?” Harry prompts, because he can hear it in her voice. She smiles, just a little.

“But you could have tried speaking with another professor, or sending one of your friends to fetch a professor before you were too far into the maze to seek help quickly. You were extremely lucky, Harry, but I would prefer you to be prepared instead of lucky.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, and means it. He hates upsetting Aunt Peggy like this.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” she says, squeezing his hand again. She sighs softly before continuing. “I would ask you not to do something like this again, but I know that’s as unlikely as asking Tony to stop blowing things up. But I can ask of you the same thing I ask of him—be careful, Harry. I love you too much to lose you so soon.”

Harry nods, throat tight. “I promise, Aunt Peggy.”

Her smile is worth it. “Now, let’s see about these treats your friends have been sending you.”

 


	2. Summer Before Second Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer between first and second year is filled with all sorts of adventure (and snark. Don't forget the snark.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A compelling case has been made that, since the summer itself is already longer than all of first year, I should post it as its own chapter. So here you go.
> 
> Also, Starpaint is totally responsible for a good half of the head canon going into this mess.

Harry loves their house just north of the City, but there’s a part of him that’s glad to be back in London for his birthday. Aunt Peggy still owns a townhouse with a large enough garden for Harry and his friends to celebrate. There’s a separate cake just for Neville, because Aunt Peggy had insisted that just because Harry liked chocolate cake with buttercream frosting didn’t mean that it would be Neville’s favorite kind, and it was his birthday too, and so they’d ended up with a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting as well.

That was five days ago, and today Harry’s meeting his friends at Diagon Alley to do their school shopping. Aunt Peggy has business with Madame Marchbanks at the Ministry (she had that look on her face that Harry knows means she’s gone into Agent Carter mode), and since Tony hadn’t come to his party, he’s here now acting as Harry’s adult supervision, though they both know Harry’s more of an adult than Tony.

But they make it to the Leaky Cauldron without incident, if a little late, and the Weasleys and Grangers are already there. Harry introduces Tony to the adults, and while Hermione’s parents’ eyes go wide, the Weasleys clearly don’t recognize him. Tony seems almost put out by this, but Harry knows once they get out into the alley proper, he’ll be too busy being distracted by all the shiny things to look at.

“Right, then,” Mrs. Weasley says, taking charge. “David, Elizabeth, why don’t you come with me to Gringotts and we’ll get your money exchanged. Arthur, why don’t you and Tony take the children for some ice cream, and we’ll meet you at Fortescue’s?” She phrases it as a question, but even Tony is smart enough to know it’s anything but. She’s also giving Tony dubious looks, like she’s not entirely sure he isn’t just another one of the kids.

Tom the bartender looks relieved when they all finally leave and the pub has a dozen less people in it. The courtyard out back is cramped, but Mrs. Weasley has the entranceway open in moments. The Grangers look shocked; Tony just looks like he wants to take the wall apart, brick by brick. Harry grabs a handful of the old AC/DC t-shirt he’s wearing and drags him along.

Ten minutes later, they’re seated at an umbrella table and five different people have come up to Harry to shake his hand. Tony started cackling after the second one, and has decided to fawn all over Harry the way girls fawn all over Tony. It’s embarrassing, but it’s making Ron’s little sister laugh.

“So what is it you do for a living, Tony?” Mr. Weasley asks, and Harry has the sudden realization based on conversations with Ron that this was a Really Bad Idea.

“This and that,” Tony says, waving a hand. “Technically I guess I’m the CEO of Stark Industries, but Obie mostly just lets me design stuff in R&D.”

“You design Muggle contraptions?” Mr. Weasley asks, leaning forward, and all of his children groan. “I’ve been working on putting a Muggle car back together.”

And now Tony is the one looking eager, and Harry groans as Tony starts going off at a thousand miles a minute. Harry half expects the twins to try and sneak off, but they’re leaning forward, watching Tony with fascination that will only lead to lots of explosions.

“Blimey,” Ron says, watching Tony gesticulate wildly. “Is he always like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I should have remembered your dad was into Muggle stuff, Tony’s been completely in love with all things magic since I got my Hogwarts’ letter. I think he read all my books before I did, and probably remembers more of them than Hermione does,” Harry says. Hermione blushes, but Percy is frowning at them.

“The Muggle Secrecy Act—”

“Oh, lay off, Perce,” Ron cuts in.

“I’m not sure that applies to him,” Hermione says hesitantly. “He lives in the United States, doesn’t he?”

Harry nods as he takes a bite of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. “He’s got a house in New York and he’s working on a place out in Malibu and he’s been talking about buying a place here in London, but Aunt Peggy says he shouldn’t bother, she barely uses the house here and he’s an idiot if he thinks he can’t use it whenever he wants, as long as he doesn’t blow it up.”

“Is that something that happens a lot?” Hermione asks, drawing the question out slow and wary.

Harry shrugs. “No more than Seamus blows things up, though Tony’s are usually a bit more intentional. Sort of.”

“Blimey,” Ron says again, looking at Tony like he’s some sort of Greek hero come to life. Tony would preen at the attention, but he’s in the middle of giving Mr. Weasley a lecture on internal combustion engines that the twins are studiously scribbling down notes on, and Harry can see Mrs. Weasley bustling through the crowd towards their table.

* * *

What happens next is glorious and is sure to go down in legends, even if it’s only Harry and Tony retelling the story for years to come. But the twins’ friend Lee Jordan had joined their group by the time it happened, so Harry is pretty certain that it will be all over Hogwarts before they make it off the train.

Harry is surprisingly okay with that idea.

Their group made its way to Flourish and Blotts to find it already over-crowded, and not by the typical back-to-school crowd. There’s a line curling out the door and halfway down the alley, and by the time Harry pushes his way inside, he can see a man sitting at a table flanked with overblown pictures of himself and a stack of books he’s signing.

Tony makes that noise he uses while reading science magazines, where something is being grossly oversimplified or he just thinks the author is a complete idiot who belongs in primary school science and not a peer-reviewed journal. (Tony will give Harry girly magazines, but he thinks science journals are trash that will corrupt Harry’s young, impressionable mind; Aunt Peggy mostly rolls her eyes but doesn’t try to stop him.)

“Oh!” Mrs. Weasley says, sounding a little too breathless, and Ron is groaning at his side.

“Oh no, not that Lockhart chap.”

Which at least halfway explains who the idiot with the bleach-blond hair is. Hermione is starting to turn a disturbing shade of pink, and Harry is about to ask her if she’s okay, but then Tony is strutting up to the table with his long-perfected swagger, looking completely at ease among all the robes in nothing but worn jeans and an old t-shirt and the sunglasses he hasn’t taken off even though it’s almost too dark inside.

Harry can’t stop his grin, because this is going to be _good_.

“Lockhart?” Tony asks, in a disbelieving, half-awed sort of voice. “ _Gilderoy_ Lockhart?” Harry’s not sure how Tony knows the man’s first name, but never put it past Tony to know useless things like that.

Lockhart is giving Tony a sort of befuddled smile while the line of housewives scowls at Tony. “And you are?”

Tony actually takes an affronted step backwards, making a show of looking around at the crowd without even saying _isn’t it obvious?_ But most of the people in here are witches and wizards and have no reason to know who Tony is, so he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Tony Stark.” When there’s still no reaction to his name, Tony sighs again. “Billionaire, playboy, genius? Owner and CEO of Stark Industries? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? No? Do you people not read the news ever? _Time_ magazine’s Person of the Year, most eligible bachelor in the States,” and here, he tosses a wink at one of the witches, who Harry notes can’t help but fawn just a little, which is impressive because it’s Tony throwing all his charm out.

Lockhart still looks confused, but is trying to match Tony’s smile—and failing. Tony grew up in the public eye, and this guy clearly has amateur written all over him. And Tony hates amateurs who think they’re more competent than they are. “I’m sure that’s all rather interesting to the Muggles,” Lockhart starts; Harry can’t see Tony’s expression from behind, but he can see Tony’s shoulders stiffen, just a little.

“What is it that you’re famous for again?” Tony asks, making Lockhart’s grin falter.

“Well, everyone knows that, of course,” Lockhart says. Tony just waits for an actual response. “Er, well, of course, you can read all about it in my biography, _Magical Me_ ,” Lockhart fumbles out, gesturing towards the stack of books. “And in my other books.”

Tony picks up one of the books and starts flipping through the pages. He actually stops at one page, holding the book sideways, before turning to one of the witches next to him. “You know, that’s not physically possible. I’ve tried. Doesn’t work with the laws of physics, magical assistance or not. The theory’s fine but it’s based on the assumption that magic can overcome the second law of thermodynamics which, well, no, it can’t, so I guess the theory really isn’t all that sound after all, is it?” He drops the book back down on the table and turns his attention back to Lockhart, who is starting to turn faintly pink. “How’d you overcome Bartok’s Principle of Nonreversibility?”

“Bartok’s… Principle?” Lockhart asks, definitely caught off guard. He laughs and shares a look with the crowd, who also laughs, more nervously than Lockhart. “Whatever you might know about the Muggle world—” he starts, but Tony steamrolls right over him. Again.

“This is a bookstore, one of these books has to have a basic breakdown of Bartok,” he says, and that sends several people scrambling towards books and Lockhart’s eyes widen. Harry can’t stop himself from laughing, which is a mistake, because it draws Lockhart’s attention to him.

“Harry Potter!” Lockhart says loudly, loud enough to be heard over the buzz of chatter, and Lockhart is pushing past Tony towards Harry, grin firmly back in place. “What an honor that you came to my book signing!”

“Er,” Harry says, trying to back away from Lockhart, but there are too many people crammed into too small a space and he’s got nowhere to go. “I’m just here for my school books, actually.”

“Nonsense, no need to be so modest!” Lockhart says, and Harry can _hear_ the exclamation marks. Lockhart grabs onto Harry’s wrist and starts to pull him forward; Harry reacts the way Aunt Peggy taught him, twisting his wrist. But Lockhart’s grip is too strong and Harry doesn’t have the right leverage to free himself. Lockhart doesn’t make it all the way back up to his table before Tony is blocking their path, sunglasses finally off.

“You want to let go of him. Right now,” Tony says, and Harry’s relieved that Lockhart obeys. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley move forward to stand in front of Harry, and everyone in the shop is dead quiet, waiting for what might come next. But now that Harry’s free of Lockhart, he’s putting his sunglasses and smile back on and coming to join Harry. He puts a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder and flashes his signature peace sign at a nearby photographer. “If you could just shoot from there, this is my good side, thanks,” he says, and winks.

* * *

“Merlin, Potter, you always need to be the center of attention, don’t you.”

Harry turns to see Malfoy lounging against the corner of a bookshelf, trying to look bored and casual. Mostly Harry thinks he just looks constipated. “Dragging Muggle filth into Diagon’s a new low even for you, though.”

Harry rolls his eyes; Malfoy’s not worth getting angry at, especially because he probably doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. “Tony’s not ‘Muggle filth’,” he says. “He’s family.”

That makes Malfoy sneer. Or at least try to. “I didn’t think you had any family left, Potter.”

Harry thinks of Tony and Aunt Peggy, of Rhodey and Aunt Peggy’s son Michael and little Sharon, who’s two years younger than Harry and still hoping for a Hogwarts letter even though they live in DC. He thinks of Uncle Howard and Aunt Maria, and the Howling Commandos, and he laughs at Malfoy. “You obviously don’t know much about family, Malfoy.”

Which is definitely worth the flush that creeps up Malfoy’s neck into his face. “At least I know better than to associate with the kind of scum that isn’t even human.”

It takes all of Harry’s will power not to punch Malfoy square in the face. He can’t stop himself from balling his hands into fists or from gritting his teeth, though. “I know the perfect book for you, Malfoy. It’s called _Mein Kampf_ , written by Adolf Hitler. You should look him up some time. See how that attitude turned out for him.”

Whatever else Malfoy might have had to say is cut off with a shout and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Both boys turn just in time to see Mr. Malfoy stumble back from Mr. Weasley, blood forming at the corner of his mouth. “I’d rather be poor than a self-centered bigot,” Mr. Weasley said, letting his wife push him back towards the rest of the family.

“Man’s got a point,” Tony says, taking a spot next to Mr. Weasley. “And also? Pimp canes went out of style in the 70s.”

 


End file.
